


Everybody Says It's Just Like Rock'n'Roll

by indevan



Series: Rock Band AU [39]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Truthfully, he thought Apetail’s popularity was because most of them are good-looking and people like a bunch of rowdy fuckwads.  He knew, vaguely, that they were talented but this is unprecedented





	Everybody Says It's Just Like Rock'n'Roll

**Author's Note:**

> [AU timeline!](http://vertigoats.tumblr.com/post/166537761367/since-after-the-first-few-the-fics-in-rock-band)

Tien thinks that he might be having some kind of crisis.  Somehow, he’s mostly managed to avoid actually watching Apetail play.  There was their first show of the group tour when Kakarrot electrocuted himself and the entire show was delayed for two hours.  And then, of course, the show where Vegeta punched Kakarrot through the guitar. He’s never really  _ paid attention _ to them, though.  He’s always been concerned with his own upcoming performance or ruminating on one he had just played, sitting in his car listening to REM.

The scene before him turns his insides to ice.

Apetail is powering through a cover of “20th Century Boy” and Tien can’t believe what he’s seeing.  Truthfully, he thought Apetail’s popularity was because most of them are good-looking and people like a bunch of rowdy fuckwads.  He knew, vaguely, that they were talented but this is unprecedented.

His eyes go to Turles first because they both play bass.  But.  _ He _ plays bass.  What Turles is doing would possibly be considered sex if his pants were off.  His instrument is slung low and heavy in his hands. He’s playing from the crotch, tossing his head and jerking his hips as he does.

Near him, Broly stands with the same, disinterested look on his face that he always wears but below his impassive expression, his body is in motion.  Tien has seen him seamlessly move from instrument to instrument during their set and right now he’s slamming a tambourine into his hand and somehow making  _ that _ look punk rock.

Behind everyone, he watches Raditz all but destroy his kit.  That ridiculous hair of his is everywhere as he puts his entire body into his drumming.  At different points throughout the show, Tien’s seen him break a stick against his forehead or in his teeth and, without missing a beat, grabbing another from a cup next to him and continuing on.  It’s a far cry from Piccolo’s steady, stone-faced drumming.

Even so, what’s going on near the back of the stage has nothing on what’s happening right in front of the crowd.  Tien can’t take his eyes off of the frontmen. There’s Kakarrot’s frenzied energy as he bounces around, fingers flying over the frets of his guitar.  Or he’s leaning down to mash his cheek against Vegeta’s to share a microphone. There’s an electricity between them he knows they’ll never have. The way their riffs weave in and out.  And now, the way they seem to be throwing the crackling energy back and forth before sending it out to the audience. And Vegeta, who’s usually scowling and churlish, is luminescent onstage.  He’s grabbing the mic stand and undulating his hips against it. Thrusting his guitar out from his crotch as if it’s his erection.

_ “Move like a cat, charge like a ram, sting like a bee, oh, babe, I wanna be your maaan…” _

Tien feels suffocated.  He can’t breathe. Anxiety?  He isn’t sure, but he has to get away from the wings.  Has to get away from watching them. The entire band is like some creature, a beast, the building music.  Their logo projected behind them, pulsing to the beat.

He’ll never have this.

No matter how much he practices and plays.  No matter how close his own band has gotten.  They’ll never have this innate, raw ability. It hits Tien like a weight in his stomach.  On their label, the band they’d be most compared to is Apetail since the sound and their band composition is similar.  U6 has a raw, punk sound but there’s only three of them and they’re led by a girl. Sadistic Dance is too esoteric and weird to be compared to really anyone.  The other groups and artists aren’t as established as the four of them to be anything more at the moment. There’s just Kame Kami and Apetail and Tien knows there’s no competition.  They’ll never measure up. No matter how disastrous they are offstage, no matter how many trashcans Kakarrot pees in, no matter how many bar stools Vegeta kicks over in a rage, no matter what.  They’ll always have this over him. Them.

Shit.

He needs air.  Can’t breathe. Everything is heady and tight and something he hates more than anything is the surge downwards, the dampness he can feel.  This display is turning him on and he has to  _ leave. _

They’ve already played since they’re just an  _ opening act, _ so he doesn’t have to stick around.  The others are. Krillin’s bobbing his head and Yamcha has his arms crossed, that beautiful smile of his on his face.  Piccolo stands a bit away from them, his eyes still on the stage, staring at Kakarrot with a weird, stricken look on his face.  Tien is in too much of a hurry to try and parse what that means.

It’s cold outside at night as summer fades into fall.  The sweat dries on his skin and Tien wishes he had his car so he could lock himself in and blast REM like he used to.

There’s a sort of despair settling over his bones more than the light chill outside.  Everything he’s ever done is for nothing. It doesn’t matter how hard he and his band work.  They’re outdone. And, then, what’s the point?

Should he give up?

“Tien?”

He turns to see Yamcha has followed him, no doubt concerned after seeing how he ran out.  Yamcha approaches him, rubbing his arms against the cold.

“You alright?”

Everything is pressing on his head and he can’t breathe, can’t speak.  What can he say if he did? Tien gulps air and shakes his head. Regulates his breathing.  Outside he can smell the close by beach mixing with trash, but he gratefully breathes it in.

“Let’s go,” he tells him. “I want to get to bed.”

Yamcha stares at him, backlit by the light hanging over the back door of the bar.  Shadows creep into his scars and the light makes his piercings wink, make his hair look even more voluminous and beautiful.  Tien stares at him, this matinee idol gorgeous boy who used to be too scared to squeak into a microphone and who has his heart.  His full lips turned down, his dark eyes depthless and probing.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “We can talk about it later.”

He says it simply because he knows and Tien feels that urge to flee from his feelings.  From this person who completes him and knows him so well. He clenches his jaw and breathes out through his nose.

“Sure.”

\--

Kakarrot feels restless--no.  He feels off. Weird all day. He keeps overheating and breaking into the sweats accompanied by dizziness.

“Do I look sick?” he asks.

No response from Vegeta who has his earbuds in.  Kakarrot sighs and kneels backwards on his seat on the bus to talk to his brother.

“Do I look sick?” he repeats.

Raditz squints at him seriously and then shrug.

“You look a little pasty,” he says.

That doesn’t really help, he thinks, since the lights on the bus wash everyone out.  He fiddles with the edge of his sleeve and sighs.

“And you keep fidgeting.”

That doesn’t help either.  Kakarrot frowns.

“I’m always fidgeting.  Y’know, ‘cause of my adhud.” He laughs at his own joke.

Raditz rolls his eyes.

“Can’t you just say ADHD like a normal person?”

He grins cheekily. “Nope!”

His brother rolls his eyes again and goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone.  Kakarrot slips back down on his seat and the world shifts. He presses the tips of his fingers on his temples to try and center himself.

They’re only three weeks into his tour and they’re already falling apart.

“I hate touring,” he says miserably. “Remember when we would just play at the Monkey’s Paw or go to places around the city in the van?  This cross-country nonsense is bullshit.”

Kakarrot isn’t sure who he’s talking to.  Raditz doesn’t answer him and Vegeta still has his headphones in.

“I’m hungry,” he says and smacks Vegeta’s arm. “Hey!  Geta!”

He lets out a low growl and tears his headphones out.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry--shut up.”

Kakarrot sighs again and slumps his head on his shoulder.

“I don’t feel good either…”

“Then go smoke a bowl or something.”

He lets out a low whine. “Geeetaaa!”

It was like this on the last tour, too, he remembers.  Missing Chi-Chi and his boys and holding onto his best friend while he whined about it.  The weird dizziness and fever spells are new, though. He wants them to pass.

“You think Kame Kami is going through it like this?” Turles asks from across the aisle. “Or are we all our own kind of fucked up?”

“Krillin said Tien left in the middle of our show,” Kakarrot says.

Vegeta smirks and gestures away from himself with one hand.

“That’s no surprise.  Baldy hates us.”

“No, he said he seemed--off.  I dunno. Maybe it’s not just us.” He rubs his temples again.  He isn’t dizzy anymore but his skin still feels clammy. “Have you noticed Piccolo looking at me weird?”

Turles clicks his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth and grins.

“Maybe he wants you.”

Kakarrot lets out a laugh as he reaches down to grab a can of iced tea from his backpack.  It’s undoubtedly room temperature but he needs some kind of coolness to mitigate how gross and hot he feels.

“He had a sexy dream about you,” Turles says and cracks up.

For some reason, Broly makes a distressed sound from his seat behind Turles.  Kakarrot’s finally located the tall cat and pops the tab.

“Please,” he says with a laugh. “I don’t think Piccolo’s attracted to anyone, y’know?  Like Broly.”

Another distressed sound.  Turles looks over the back of his chair.

“You okay, Broles?”

He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the window and glares at Kakarrot.

“Broly wanted to fuck Raditz, didn’t he?” Vegeta asks.  He’s lit a cigarette and the smoke makes Kakarrot feel hot all over again.

“Lay off him,” Turles says with startling ferocity.

Kakarrot pauses, the can of iced tea partway to his lips.  Vegeta looks surprised as well, cigarette dangling from his lower lip.  Raditz doesn’t at all seemed surprised and is, in fact, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Just.  Shut up,” he says with a snarl.

Kakarrot shrugs, already beyond caring about it, and sips his drink.  Thoughts of Broly and Piccolo are forgotten as he takes his free hand to rub at his temples once more.

\--

Tien almost feels too down to play.  He knows it’s ridiculous, but the image from last night is burned into his head.  The image and what it means. They’ll never be good enough.  _ He’ll _ never be good enough.  The stubborn part of him wants to keep going, but a niggling little bug in the back of his brain wonders why he bothers.  He’s already had to acknowledge that Yamcha’s the better songwriter and that he can’t do it all on his own, and now this?

He goes on anyway, but the show feels wrong.  Piccolo’s distracted, continually missing his cue.  Yamcha, as well, seems lethargic at the microphone, sneaking glances to Tien when he’s supposed to be singing.  Krillin plays on, flashing sympathetic smiles at the crowd every time someone messes up.

He doesn’t want to stick around afterwards.  He wants to put his shirt on and go stew on the bus until they’re taken to the hotel for the inevitable after party.  Someone has other plans. Tien feels a hand snag his arm and he turns to see his boyfriend.

“Stay and watch,” he says and how can he say no to that?

Tien begrudgingly stands next to him, wondering why he has to be here.  He’s seen Apetail the night before. He  _ knows _ how they play.   _ Knows _ how they riff with each other and the audience.  Why does he have to see it again?

Except.

Apetail seems to be struggling tonight, too.  Or, at least, Kakarrot is. He keeps nearly stopping, swaying on his feet and shaking his head furiously.

“Oh, that’s weird,” Yamcha says. “I was going to have to you stand here and realize that whatever was getting to you last night won’t matter, but now I dunno.”

Tien turns away from the stage to fix him with a look.

“What do you mean ‘whatever was getting to me’?”

Yamcha shrugs and pulls his hair over one shoulder.  They’re close enough to hear one another over the music without shouting so he speaks regularly.

“Look, they’re them and we’re us.  Maybe we can’t be them but we can always be us.  So don’t worry.”

“Yamcha…”

He pulls his head down to kiss the crown of Tien’s shaved head.  This is something else he had to realize: his love for Yamcha and how that  _ doesn’t _ affect his playing in a negative way.  It makes him better, really, just as listening to him and getting down the songs he wrote.  Maybe he’s right about this, too. They don’t have the raw energy and electricity of Apetail, but they don’t have to.  He just has to...get over that. Learn to, anyway.

The sound of a missed note brings his attention back to the stage.  Kakarrot has messed up and stopped playing, his fingers pressed against his temples.  Vegeta is standing by him, looking pissed, and Tien sees Yamcha bite his lip.

“Uh-oh.”

Right.  The last time Kakarrot screwed up in the middle of the song, he got punched through the guitar.

“What the fuck?” Vegeta demands.

The others have stopped playing and are exchanging looks.  A murmur ripples across the audience. Kakarrot opens his mouth to speak but then he wavers on his feet, stumbles, and collapses to the floor of the stage.

\--

Kakarrot sits in the back of the ambulance, following the EMT’s finger with his eyes.

“State your full name,” she says in a clipped voice.

“Kakarrot Goku Son,” he responds.

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Mother’s maiden name?”

He frowns.

“Uh, my mom’s parents disowned her so that I don’t know.”

The EMT runs several more tests before she concludes that falling on the stage probably didn’t give him a concussion.  Kakarrot figures he could probably have told her that. He’s  _ had _ a concussion before and it didn’t feel like this at all.

“Why’d I faint?” he asks.

“Hypotension,” she responds.  At his look, she explains it, “Low blood pressure.”

“Oh...why do I have that?”

“Well, for one, you’re incredibly dehydrated.”

Kakarrot thinks back to what he’s had to drink over the past several days and can only come up with sugary drinks and alcohol.  Well, shit.

“I advise you to keep a water bottle on you whenever you can, Mr. Son.” She pauses and adds, “with water in it.”

He’s figured that one out, honestly.  He hears the crunch of gravel under boots.  Another EMT turns.

“Sir, we haven’t concluded our examination.  If you could--”

Vegeta shoves him out of the way and holds his phone out.

“I called Chi-Chi,” he says bluntly.

He passes him the phone and Kakarrot takes it.

“Hey, baby.”

“You’re going to send me to an early grave,” Chi-Chi says automatically.

“Sorry.  I’m fine, though.  No concussion.”

She laughs on the other end of the line.

“No surprise there.  I’m surprised your head didn’t break the stage, it’s so hard.”

He smiles.

“I know, I know.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and he pictures Chi-Chi leaning on their counter at home, wearing the cat pajamas he got her and sighing.  God, he misses her. Misses his boys, too.

“Be careful,” she says, “and don’t give Vegeta any more reasons to call me.”

“I thought you liked him.”

A frustrated sigh.

“I mean, don’t get hurt or sick again and make him have to call me and tell me.  Okay?”

“Okay.” He thinks of what time it is and adds, “Get some sleep, Cheech.”

“You, too.” Another pause. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Kakarrot ends the call and forgets for a moment that this isn’t his phone until he sees the picture of Trunks at the aquarium is the homescreen.

“Here,” he says, handing the phone back.

Vegeta takes it with a grunt and jams it in the pocket of his jacket.

Kakarrot turns back to the EMT and, flashing a grin, says, “Okay, what now?”

\--

Tien knows Yamcha’s right but it’s hard changing his mindset.  He’s always felt like he’s had something to prove. Maybe he can use that, though.  He doesn’t have to worry about Apetail, just his band and himself.

And his relationship.

Yamcha’s words echoed in him that previous summer and his behavior.  He doesn’t want to lose him again. He wants to work towards this--their band, them--together.  And he thinks that maybe part of that should involve expending so much of his energy hating Apetail.

He spots Kakarrot in the lobby, rubbing at a spot on his arm with a bandage over it.  It’s odd to see him alone, not flanked by at least one of his band mates.

“Hey,” he says.

Kakarrot looks up, brows up in surprise that Tien’s talking to him.  He can’t blame him.

“Hi,” he says almost warily.

“Are you alright?”

He nods.

“Oh, yeah.  They gave me some stuff to rehydrate me and junk.” He grins. “Thanks for asking.”

Tien doesn’t know what else to say so he nods and awkwardly puts a hand on his shoulder to pat it.  Kakarrot looks similarly confused so he retracts his hand and clears his throat.

“Right.  Well. Uh.  Feel...better.  Bye.”

He turns abruptly and leaves.  He figures that it’s a start.


End file.
